


Princess of his dreams

by LadyMiya



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Drugs that make you horny, Erotic performance, F/M, Handsome Voldemort, Multi, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:34:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25223230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMiya/pseuds/LadyMiya
Summary: Hermione gets a promotion at the Department of Mysteries. Never would she have guessed that her new job would entail feigning royalty.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 18
Kudos: 75





	Princess of his dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [TomioneSmutFest20](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/TomioneSmutFest20) collection. 



> **Prompt:** Royalty AU
> 
> A/N: My (too late, due to health issues) entry to the Tomione Smut Fest 2020! My prompt was Royalty AU which I took great liberties with.  
> It’s been a few years since my last fanfiction and I hope I’m not too rusty. I’ve been writing mostly in Swedish for my publisher as well as for different theater-projects these last few years. So, many, many thanks to Ozzy for beta:ing this!

**Princess of his dreams**

“So, he has just been lying here for fifteen years and you didn’t tell anyone?” Hermione asked, furious and not afraid to show her rage, despite it being directed at her boss.

Mr Finnes, however, didn’t show any emotion. Which was normal for the Head of the Department of Mysteries.

“After the final battle, we were given the task of disposing of the body,” he explained, calmly. “But before we got him to the Chamber of Death, his body started changing. It was a fascinating display of magic.”

“Is he alive?” Hermione gasped, looking closely at the body of the young man in front of them.

A young Voldemort was lying on an examination-table, under a black sheet. He was not as young as the Tom Riddle that Harry had shown her through his memories, but he did not look like a snake anymore. He was maybe around 30 years old and absolutely gorgeous. Like a film star from an old Hollywood film.

“He is in stasis. His body gives no sign of life, but neither does it decay or change. It’s like he has made a protective skin out of time.”

Mr Finnes handed her a thick scroll, filled with readings. Hermione reluctantly opened it. She had been an employee of the Department of Mysteries for five years and had worked hard to climb the ranks. When Mr Finnes had offered her a promotion, she had thought she would be allowed to pick what project to work on. But, apparently, Mr Finnes had other plans.

“Why not just send him through the Veil and be done with it?” Hermione asked, trying to reign in the storm of emotions inside of her.

“We have made sure his body cannot leave this room,” Mr Finnes said firmly, an unspoken warning for her not to do anything stupid.

“What do you expect me to do?” she finally asked, after studying the scroll.

“We had a breakthrough a year ago. He is dreaming. One of your colleagues managed to walk into his mind and get a glimpse of what was happening inside. But he didn’t dare to make contact because we simply don’t know if the dream is merely an echo of a memory or … him.

“You are the only one qualified for this mission. Due to your experience, you know his history and mind the best.”

Hermione didn’t doubt that. The only one who knew more was Harry, but he had never been able to keep a cool head when in the presence of Voldemort. She would not tell him about this. He had managed to move on with his life; and together with Ginny, overcome the traumas that had plagued them in the aftermath of the war. They were finally happy. She would not rob them of that.

“What is the objective?” she asked.

“Find out what you can about the spell he is under.”

“So we can break it?” she queried.

“If it comes to that, yes.”

Hermione stared at her boss in disbelief. “The world is not safe as long as _any_ part of Voldemort lives.”

“When you have done your analysis, we will consider every possible solution.” He gave her a pointed stare that told her that the discussion was over.

That was the purpose of the Department of Mysteries after all. To study strange magics, with no agenda but to learn. She generally liked that approach, but how would she be able to do so now?

She inhaled deeply. This was just another project. She would find out what there was to know and then they could dispose of the body.

What could possibly go wrong?

\----

It took a month before Hermione felt ready to use Legilimency in order to enter Voldemort’s mind. She planned to just observe from a distance initially. Blend into the background and see whatever hideous thing he was dreaming about.

It was nothing like entering the mind of someone who was awake. There was nowhere to dig for information. No memories to enter. Instead, it was like taking a step into an alternate universe.

She was in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, but it was unlike the one that she knew. Where the High Table was usually situated, stood a big black throne decorated with serpents. Behind it, hung a flag that she had never seen before. It was the same green as the Slytherin flag, but instead of a silver snake, there was a black V in the middle.

The room was filled with people talking, laughing and even dancing. They were wearing grand robes in a myriad of colours. She quickly altered her own plain black robe to a deep blue dress.

“Some wine, my Lady?” a man in a silver and black uniform held out a tray of glasses for her. His long white hair was tied with a bow.

A young Lucius Malfoy. Serving wine.

“No, thank you,” she said, with a fake smile. “But what a grand feast this is.”

He smiled and bowed his head. “Thank you, my Lady. But it’s nothing more than we deserve on this glorious day.”

“Indeed,” she said, playing along. “So many glorious things have happened. What are you most thankful for?”

“Why, that our King finally freed us from those who wish to oppress us.” Malfoy beamed. “Did you see him out on the battlefield? Is there a more noble ruler?”

“Alas, I missed the final battle. I was wounded,” she added, when Malfoy looked surprised.

“Oh, how dreadful.”

The doors to the hall opened and everyone stopped talking and turned to the opening.

Voldemort, looking like his younger, human self, strode in. With a crown on his head.

Everyone fell to their knees, with Hermione following suit.

Was he seriously dreaming about a world where he was _king_?!

Voldemort reached the podium where his throne was located and stepped onto it, removing his heavy, fur cloak. Underneath, he was wearing black robes, with intricate silver designs running around his arms and chest. The crown was silver too, she realised.

He threw his cloak over the back of the throne and then turned to face the crowd.

The hall was completely quiet. Everyone was still on their knees, holding their breaths.

“Welcome, my friends,” he said with a smile, gesturing for them to rise. “Welcome to the celebration of the five year anniversary of the glorious battle!”

Everyone cheered. Hermione reluctantly clapped her hands, because Malfoy was still standing next to her. He looked like he was enthralled by Voldemort’s words. Like a dog looking upon his master. Complete devotion.

Looking around, she noticed that everyone wore the same expression.

“Those who sought to oppress us are gone, and we have finally entered an era of peace and prosperity.”

Voldemort paused to take in all the cheering again. Hermione rolled her eyes. He was clearly very full of himself.

“Enjoy my hospitality. Drink, feast and be merry!”

Everyone cheered as the door opened and more servants came in, with floating tables filled with food. They were all dressed like Malfoy was and seemed to be in their late teens. However, when she tried to focus on their faces, to see if she could recognise someone else, she realised that she couldn’t quite see. It was like her eyesight had become weaker. Their robes and youthfulness she saw clearly, but not their individual faces.

“You are new.”

Hermione jumped and turned around to see Voldemort standing behind her.

She quickly bowed her head. “Oh, I’m sorry … my Lord, I didn’t notice you.”

He reached out and grabbed her arm, squeezing hard. “You are … different.”

Hermione knew she could withdraw from his mind at any moment and therefore decided that the best course of action was to try and play along. “I have just arrived, my Lord, from the continent.”

He moved his hand down her arm and to her hand. When he touched her skin, he flinched and stared down at it.

“I have forgotten… “ he mumbled, and for a moment she feared that he would realise what she was.

But as quickly as he had grabbed her, he let go, and his expression changed to one of conceit again.

“You are a princess,” he decided.

“Er… yes, I am Princess Hermione of … Granada.”

“Pleasure to meet you, your Highness.” Voldemort bowed his head slightly at her.

“The pleasure is all mine, my Lord”, Hermione curtsied, hoping that he still preferred that title.

“Come and join me for dinner,” he said in a tone that allowed no room for objection, offering her his arm.

Hermione hesitantly accepted, reminding herself that she could withdraw from the dream at any moment. This was an excellent opening to find out more of what was going on inside Voldemort’s head.

By the throne, the podium had been enlarged and more chairs had arrived. Voldemort led her to the seat to his left and pulled out the chair for her.

It all felt quite surreal. It wasn’t strange that Voldemort would see himself as a king. But this? It all felt so … normal. No torturing or killing anyone.

Was this how Voldemort envisioned the world would be if he won the war? That after all the Muggles, Muggle-borns and Blood-traitors had disappeared, they would feast and he would be the king of devoted subjects?

More people joined the table. She recognised several of them as the original Death Eaters. Avery Sr., the Lestrange brothers and Mulciber Sr. she recognised from pictures. Abraxas Malfoy, who sat down next to her, was impossible to miss, due to his similarity with his son. He gave her a polite nod.

Two women also joined them, but she didn’t recognise either of them. They both gave her bored looks, before seated themselves and started conversing with each other in low voices.

“These are my Knights,” Voldemort explained to Hermione, once the table was seated. “And this is Princess Hermione of Granada.”

“Are you also here to ask for assistance with your rodent problem?” Mulciber asked, eagerly.

“Er… no, we have that under control,” Hermione said, reminding herself that Mulciber was dead in the real world. She turned towards Voldemort. “The tales of your mastery over magic have always astounded me. I just had to travel here and see it for myself.”

Voldemort smiled smugly. “Indeed? What tale in particular are you curious about?”

“Is it true that you commanded a Basilisk to do your bidding?” She wasn’t sure what things he had done in this alternate universe.

Voldemort laughed. “Very true. He is still with me. He has his own chamber in this very castle.”

“How on earth did you manage to control it?” Hermione said, pretending to be amazed.

“I speak Parseltongue so controlling it was never the problem,” he smiled. “Taming it was harder. It is a strong-willed creature. But I was stronger.”

“How fascinating.”

“But what about you? I fear I do not know much of the royal family of Granada.”

“Not much of interest to tell. I’m the youngest daughter, so I have been free to pursue my own passion and study magic. Transfiguration has always been a fascinating subject.” She wasn’t lying; that was still one of her favourite subjects.

“Is that so?”

“Oh yes. Lately, I’ve been studying how to manipulate time into an invisibility cloak, so to speak.”

Voldemort looked surprised for a second. “How interesting, what have you found?”

“It’s all theoretical thus far, I’m afraid. But my idea is that you can hide yourself inside a second. For you, time has slowed down, but for others... they don’t see you anymore.”

“Really, what do you base your research on?”

“It was an idea I got after reading about a great witch, who locked her foe into a tree, and bound him there with time.” It was not a complete lie. Hermione had done a paper on the subject when she first started out in the Department of Mysteries.

“Morgana, you mean?” Voldemort asked, looking delighted.

“Yes, how did you know?” Hermione wasn’t surprised. Morgana had been a great dark witch.

“I too have done my reading”, Voldemort said, with a smirk.

“Oh, what have you read?” Hermione asked, hoping that she would finally get something useful out of him.

However, before Voldemort could answer, the doors to the hall slowly started to open, and the room got quieter.

“Finally, the entertainment is here,” Voldemort said, with a wicked grin. “I’m certain you have heard rumors of our revels?”

Hermione went cold. “Maybe a few.”

Fog rolled in from between the doors and filled the room. She could see people moving in the fog and it smelled strangely familiar. Comfortable, even.

She started to relax and sank back in the chair. All thoughts of the mission she was on didn’t seem as important anymore.

The fog cleared, and before their table, a long catwalk had appeared. Dancers were standing on it - all gorgeous men and women - in flowing, almost see-through clothing. Then the music began and they started to dance. Very erotically.

Closest to her was a male dancer in a green silk loincloth. He danced with slow hip moments and ran his hands over his muscular body.

Hermione could feel herself blush and sink deeper into her seat. This was not what she had expected. She had thought they would torture some poor Muggle or another creature. This was … a whole different kind of torture.

The dancer took a hold of a blonde female dancer next to him, and started to run his hands down the sides of her body, before grasping her waist and pulling her closer to him. She arched her back so she could push her arse against his groin as they danced.

The man’s hand travelled up to her breasts, and Hermione could see the woman moan when he stroked the thin fabric covering her nipples.

A female dancer with long black hair joined the couple, placing her hands on the other woman’s hips and starting to move with them. Their hips moved slowly, pressed up against each other.

Hermione glanced at Voldemort. He was leaning back into his throne, looking thoughtful, as he watched the dancers. Then he turned towards her and Hermione immediately looked away, feeling like her face was on fire. She could hear him chuckle.

On the catwalk, the dark-haired woman had started to lick the other woman’s neck, moving up to her lips. They met in a heated kiss, while the male behind them ripped the fabric over the blonde’s breasts. He proceeded to stroke her breasts, grasping the nipples and slightly tugging at them.

Hermione was no stranger to erotica. She had read her fair share and even seen some Muggle pornos. But this was completely different. She could hear every movement they made, smell the sweat and sex. And she was doing it next to one of the most dangerous wizards that had ever existed.

So why was she getting kind of horny?

She could imagine the feeling of the male dancer’s hands on her breasts, and it made her shift uncomfortably in her seat.

The two women broke their kiss. The blond pressed her arse harder against the man, while leaning forward to bite into the fabric covering the other woman’s breasts. With a forceful tug, it too ripped, and the blond tossed it aside so she could kiss the dark-haired woman’s breast.

Around the room, the other dancers were also losing clothes in different ways. They had gathered into groups of three or four and were stroking each other’s bodies.

The air in the room was heavy with need. Hermione crossed her legs, trying to relieve some of the pressure down there.

The threesome closest to her caught her attention again. The man had a very noticeable bulge beneath his loincloth, and the blonde had put her hand between the other woman’s legs and was stroking her thigh. Sometimes, the hand would disappear underneath the flowy skirt, and the dark-haired woman would let out a gasp.

Just when Hermione didn’t think she could get any more uncomfortable, one of the Lestrange brothers rose from the table and went up to the catwalk. He tapped the foot of the blond woman and she gracefully jumped into his waiting arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. He carried her out of the chamber faster than a man fleeing fire would run.

Around the other tables, more people were getting up. Not everyone went for a dancer though. Several couples disappeared, often leaving behind a few layers of clothing.

“Is there one you want?” Voldemort asked softly, making her jump.

“Er… no, this is not how I usually … you have this every night?” she asked, trying to will away the blush on her face.

“No, we have it four times during the moon cycle. So every woman will have the opportunity to get pregnant during that cycle.”

“Pregnant?” Hermione asked, surprised. Weren’t the so-called purebloods all about keeping their bloodlines … well, pure?

“Why of course,” Voldemort smiled. “It’s important that our kingdom grow. Too many of our brethren have fallen to the war. Also, sex is a fantastic magical force on its own. My knights are stronger for a time afterwards.”

“I see.” Hermione didn’t know if she should look at him or at the man who was now removing his loincloth. Both options were quite uncomfortable.

Voldemort laughed again. “Oh, I know traditionalists frown upon our practices.” Then he leaned closer. “But I think you would like to feel some pleasure tonight.”

She flinched. “What makes you think that?”

“You are drinking it all in like you haven’t had water in years”, he said, huskily. “When was the last time someone truly satisfied you?”

“Not that long ago,” Hermione lied, as she tried to calculate how long it had been.

She had had a couple of serious relationships. She and Ron had been together for three years. After that, she had dated a colleague at the Ministry for a while. That relationship had ended two years ago, and since then she had only had short flings, which had hardly been the best sex she had ever had. But they had at least been satisfying.

“Oh really?” Voldemort purred, leaning even closer. “So you know what it’s like when you reach that point where you no longer know if someone is pleasing you or torturing you, but you never want it to stop?”

Hermione didn’t know what to say and was saved from answering by a loud moan from one of the men on the catwalk. Behind him was another muscular man, thrusting into him, hard and fast. A woman knelt in front of him, pleasuring him orally.

The man’s jaw was slack, and his eyes were closed. He seemed unaware of all else going on around him.

Hermione felt heat pool between her legs, and her mind would definitely replay this scene when she was safe at home in her own bed.

“That could be you,” Voldemort suggested. “I take my guests’ happiness very seriously.”

Hermione froze. This was not going according to plan. She was supposed to find information about him, not watch, what she could only describe, as a live porn movie, together. She had to get back in control.

“You can have any one of them,” Voldemort continued. “They are experts in their field.”

Maybe it was her libido, but Hermione saw an opportunity and decided to take it.

“Tempting. But I have always found more pleasure in academic debate and learning,” she said.

Voldemort chuckled. “Indeed? Have you ever combined physical pleasure with mental pleasure?”

Hermione swallowed. “What do you mean?”

“Let me show you my library”, Voldemort said while rising, offering his hand to her.

She carefully took it and allowed him to lead her out of the hall. No one seemed to notice them leaving, they were too preoccupied.

He led her up to where the library was located. It looked similar to what she was used to. The only difference was that between the bookcases, there were various objects on display. She recognised some as Horocruxes they had destroyed. Ravenclaw’s tiara, Slytherin’s locket and Hufflepuff’s Cup were closest to her.

Were they Horocruxes now as well? No, that didn’t make any sense. If they were Horocruxes, he would have wanted to hide them.

“Impressive library,” she said, scanning the rows of books. “Is this where you have books about Morgana?”

“Among other things,” he said, and led her deeper into the library. Just as in the real Hogwarts, there were seating areas between some of the bookcases. He bid her to sit down on a comfortable burgundy sofa, and only had to wave his hand for books to appear in front of her.

Then he sat down in an armchair, across from her on the sofa, and picked up an ancient-looking tome.

“This is what is left of Morgana’s experiments,” he said, caressing the cover of the book. “But why don’t we make this into a game. I will ask you a question, and if you answer it truthfully, I will answer a question you have about her research.”

Hermione felt a bit nervous. If she told him too much, he might figure out that she wasn’t from around her. On the other hand, this was probably the easiest way for her to find out what magic he had used on this body in the real world. Morgana had experimented a great deal with temporal magic, it was possible he had got his idea from her.

“Very well,” she said. “What do you want to know?”

Voldemort looked very pleased. “How long has it been since you last engaged in any sexual activity?”

Hermione felt her face turn red again. But the truth would not jeopardize her mission here so she decided to answer it truthfully.

“About six months,” she mumbled.

“Oh, even by your own hand?”

Hermione blushed even harder. “No, that was just a few days ago.”

Why did he want to know something like that anyway?

Still, he seemed pleased with her answer, so she got to ask one in return.

“What kind of temporal magic did Morgana develop?” she asked.

Voldemort didn’t even have to open the book to answer. “She focused mostly on humans. She could speed up ageing, freeze other people in time and even objects. The stasis spell Healers use comes from her research.

“Now then, I could see that you were affected by the revel, but you seem uncomfortable to talk about your own needs. Why is that?”

Hermione opened her mouth and then closed it again. What kind of question was that even? Why was he so interested in learning about her sex life? The only other person she had ever talked to these things about was Ginny.

She took a deep breath and decided to just pretend that it was Ginny she was talking to.

“I’m not sure. I guess I have always been more focused on what other people want and need. And there always seems to be something more important to do than … sex.”

“What a shame. Sex can be truly magical.”

“Do you mean literally or figuratively?” she asked.

“Oh, literally. Not only does it make you stronger, but you can harvest the magical energy for many things.”

“Like what?” she asked.

He smiled at her. “I believe it is my turn to ask a question.”

Hermione was about to object but realised that she had indeed wasted a question. She cursed her own curiosity.

“Very well,” she said, with a sigh.

“What makes you aroused?”

The little smile playing on his lips told her that he knew he was making her uncomfortable and liking it.

Hermione shifted in her seat. Two could play this game. “Apparently watching a revel.”

His smile widened. “Ah, so it did.”

She decided to no longer care about the blush on her face, and tried to maintain eye contact with him. He clearly thought he had the upper hand and she desperately needed to get some control back.

“Is sex magic a part of Morgana’s research?” she asked, boldly.

“As a matter of fact it is,” he purred. “What part in particular did you like in the revel?”

By now, her whole body had probably turned red. “I enjoyed watching one of the men being taken from behind by another man. How does Morgana incorporate sex magic in her temporal research?”

“She does so in many ways. In particular, she focused on how she could trap Merlin in time. She seduced him, lured him to a place where she had prepared runes and potions, and when their sexual act reached its climax, she used the magic to trap him in that moment of pleasure. He wouldn’t realise what else was going on until it was too late.”

“But Merlin escaped and defeated Morgana,” Hermione objected.

Voldemort nodded. “But she managed to do it. Of course, he didn’t want other people to find out about it and tried to destroy all her research.”

“Clearly, he failed,” she said, nodding at the book.

“Yes, luckily.” He regarded her for a few seconds. “Do you know how desirable you are?”

Now Hermione was forced to look away because she had no idea how to respond to that.

Voldemort chuckled. “I’ll take that as a no.”

He rose from the armchair and went to sit down next to her on the sofa. He used a finger to tilt her chin up, so she was forced to look into his eyes again.

“Do you have any idea what I want to do to you?” he asked in a low voice. His eyes were burning with passion.

Hermione had never had anyone look at her like that. She didn’t know what to say, she felt like she was drowning in his eyes.

“I-I think it’s my turn to ask a question first,” she stuttered.

He smiled and stroked her jaw with his long fingers. “So it is.”

She swallowed. “Have you ever used Morgana’s research for temporal magic?”

“I have.” His fingers slowly stroked her throat. “I tried making myself younger. That part worked, but now I don’t appear to be aging at all. I’m … stuck, so to speak.”

His fingers came up to her ear. “Do you have any idea what I want to do to you?”

She was breathing heavily as she shook her head. It was just like down in the Great Hall, when the revel had started. All other thoughts disappeared from her mind and she could only focus on him.

“I would like to let my hand wander down your body, caressing your beautiful breasts.” His voice was almost hypnotic. As he spoke, he slowly started to move his hand down her dress, over her bosom.

“I want to taste every inch of your body, feel you tremble beneath me.”

Her eyes had fallen shut, and she could feel the heat from his breath as he spoke. His hand had wandered down to her stomach, leaving a trail of heat.

“I want to hear you beg for my touch. Scream in pleasure.”

His hand was on her upper thigh and he increased the pressure, dragging his nails over the fabric of her dress. She could feel her heartbeat in her sex. She spread her legs without thinking.

“I want to fill you with my power. Control every nerve ending in your body. And when you least expect it, I will add just a tiny bit of pain.”

He pressed his nails into her thigh and scratched, hard. She moaned as she heard the fabric of her dress rip apart.

“And when you have called me your lord and master, I will reward you.”

His hand moved in, under the fabric of the dress, in between her legs. She moaned again as his fingers made contact with her clit. She trembled and shifted her position so he could sink two fingers into her wetness. His thumb was circling her clit as he bent his fingers, starting to apply pressure upwards, against her g-spot.

“Do you think you would like that?” he whispered into her ear, before biting her earlobe.

When she didn’t answer, he stilled his movement. She let out a groan in protest. She was so close to coming. If only he could move a little!

“Do you think you would like that?” he asked again, louder this time.

“Yes,” she moaned.

“Yes what?” he purred.

“Yes, my Lord,” she cried.

He rewarded her by starting to move against her clitoris, hard.

She could feel the climax hit her, washing over her like a great wave.

“Excellent, my dear … Hermione Granger.”

Her eyes flew open. He smiled wickedly at her and withdrew his hand from her body. She watched in horror as he slowly licked his fingers.

“Exquisite,” he said, softly.

She scrambled off the sofa, and heard him laugh, as she forcefully withdrew from his mind.

Next thing she knew, she was falling onto the floor at the Department of Mysteries, fumbling for her wand.

How could he have done that?

How could _she_ have done that?

She managed to get up, aiming her wand at his body, half expecting to see him smirking at her. But his body was still frozen in front of her. Trembling, she ran diagnostics but could see no difference in his condition.

He had been toying with her. He must have known from the moment he had seen her that she wasn’t a part of his dream.

Well, she wouldn’t be going in there again, that’s for sure. She would just have to make sure they disposed of the body through the Veil of Death, like they should have done from the start.

She left to find her boss, but he had already gone home for the day. She decided to go home as well, take a long shower and try not to think about the best orgasm she had ever had.

After much tossing and turning, she fell asleep.

“Hello Hermione.”

Hermione stared at Voldemort. He was standing in her childhood home, looking over the photos on the wall in the living room.

“This is just a dream,” she muttered, before turning around and going up the stairs to her room.

When she opened the door, he was there, sitting on her bed.

“You are dreaming. I’m just a part of it,” he said, smirking. “It’s amazing how much the mind opens up during an orgasm, wouldn’t you say?”

She slammed the door and ran out of her house, down the street and then found herself at Hogwarts.

“Oh, you can’t escape me, my dear.” He was leaning against a tree next to the lake. “I’ve been waiting too long for someone to come into my mind and anchor me to the real time.”

“I won’t help you,” she stated, mentally running through every possible scenario to kick him out of her mind.

“You already have,” he purred, coming closer to her. “But don’t worry, you will be rewarded for your service.”

Oh. Fucking. Hell.


End file.
